Playing the Game
by ShinyRedPenny
Summary: The Dragon Queen comes to the Eyrie
1. Chapter 1

Alayne stared impassionately at her father's...at Lord Baelish's lifeless body. She watched as the blood drained into the dirt by her feet and felt nothing. She could hear Myranda's sniffling beside her and knew that sobs would be expected from his own daughter, but she couldn't bring herself to perform the mummery. As Baelish had been forced to his knees, the only thing that had gone through her mind was that little Lord Robin would be safe now. That and that she would never have to kiss him again.

Harry, her betrothed, had given her a sidelong glance and had put an arm over her shoulders, pulling her slightly closer to him in comfort. Alayne allowed the intimacy, knowing that there were more than a few eyes watching her in the crowd witnessing the sudden execution. They would expect her to be blubbering on as Myranda was doing, crying at the death of her father. For a moment, her mind went to another execution... another beheading. The girl had reacted as everyone thought she would-wailing out, struggling against the guards, even fainting... No. Alayne was not a child. She truly was losing her great protector and had great reason cry but she found her eyes dry. Hopefully people would just think she was numb in shock. She was far from numb though, as her mind whirled. Lord Baelish had been the only one to truly know her past. He had worked tirelessly to set up an elaborate plan to take Winterfell in her name and without him, Alayne would have to take care of herself. She had become confident in her abilities, but with this new development, she was uneasy.

The Dragon Queen had descended on the Vale in full force so unexpectedly. They had heard snippets of the battles in the south for months, but had not prepared for this sudden arrival. They had been too preoccupied accumulating provisions to last out the winter and arranging for Alayne's marriage. The weight of Harry's arm was heavy on her back and she couldn't help but ponder whether the wedding would actually happen now that it's greatest advocate was headless. Alayne had known that Baelish was working to make her the Lady of the Vale. Had known that he was just waiting for little Robin to breathe his last. Had suspected he was doing what he could to advance his demise. It had been more than once that she had poured the sweetsleep out of Sweetrobin's window once the Maester had left. Annoying as he may be, Robin was practically the last of her family. Even with all the unease that came with the loss of her champion, she was relieved that her cousin would now be safe. Unless the Dragon Queen found him a threat...

Alayne's river-blue eyes swept across the courtyard to the fearful woman. She was beautiful-there was no denying it, but not the icy beauty that Alayne could boast and not the seductive glamour of the Lannister queen. This woman's power radiated from her like flames. She looked magnificent even without the hulking beast she had ridden in on. They had all woken this morning to the screeching as the dragon had circled the Eyrie, waiting as her troops had pushed past the gate. The beast's cries had gone on for hours-as if they weren't nervous enough preparing the castle for her arrival. Petyr had been as on edge as Alayne had ever seen him when they had finally come together in the courtyard to greet them. He had plastered on that sly smile even as everyone else had flinched away when the dragon landed and the silver woman had climbed from it's back. He had stepped forward to welcome her to the Vale, apologizing that it's Lord was...incapacitated and letting her know that he would assist her in anything she needed. She had looked at him practically in disgust and had asked him to repeat his name. He had looked confused and confirmed his identity.

"The Lord Baelish that was Master of Coin for the usurper and his mad son?" She had raised an eyebrow at his confusion.

"The very same."

Her eyes had turned hard instantly and she waved towards her guards. "Seize him." There had been a moment of chaos as everyone had gasped and Petyr had struggled, but quickly was subdued. Strangely, no one came to his rescue as he was forced to his knees. The queen waved to one of her knights. "Ser Jorah?" An older man in armor had stepped from her ranks and unsheathed his broadsword. Alayne's eyes had gone wide as the queen began rattling off accusations directed at her protector. Treason towards House Targaryen, Lannister, Stark, Tyrell, Arryn, and the realm. Kidnapping. Theft. Murder. The list went on an on until Alayne was swaying on her feet. "For these crimes, I sentence you to death. Do you have any last words?" The dragon woman had been radiating with righteous fury as she glared down at the man at her feet.

"Do I get no trial? No argument to these accusations?" He had demanded loudly, but the queen had just scoffed.

"You do not deserve it." And his head had rolled and Alayne had watched in almost satisfaction as his body ceased it's twitching.

Now the queen made her way over to the Maester, who had stood right behind her.

"Where is Lord Arryn?" Her voice had lost the fury it had held before and now was rather respectful, although most of the crowd had flinched away at her approach.

"I'm afraid he is in his chamber, quite incapacitated..." Maester Coleman stuttered, clearly fearful. "He is but a little boy, your grace. And a sickly one at that. Surely no threat to you." Alayne's eyebrows rose at his audacity, but the queen just looked sympathetic.

"He has nothing to fear from me, I swear to you..." She glanced around at all the terrified faces. "To any of you." She raised her voice slightly. "I would like to speak to the Lord as soon as possible though..." Alayne noticed the hesitation in her voice-clearly not wanting to linger, but equally resistant to pulling a sick child from his bed. Before she knew it, she had stepped forward and dropped into a curtsy.

"Your grace," she murmured, with her head down. "Perhaps you could wait in the great hall? Swe-Lord Robin usually just needs a short rest after such excitement as we had this morning..." Her eyes raised just enough to glance towards the dragon before returning to the ground. "I'm sure he will be well enough soon. Especially with the Maester's care." She sent a small, encouraging smile to Maester Coleman who nodded and turned to return to his little charge. The queen watched him go before turning back to Alayne and nodding.

Myranda sent her an incredulous look through her tears and Harry looked equally disconcerted as she led the queen and a few of her men into the Eyrie. They made their way into the great hall where Petyr had already ordered a welcome spread to be set out. As Alayne poured the queen a glass from the flagon of wine Petyr had selected, she had to appreciate the irony that he had gone through so much trouble to welcome the dragon queen and her party. Alayne busied herself in feeding the rest of the group and filling all their goblets. She couldn't help noticing the vast diversity that the queen kept in her company. The Ser Jorah that had acted as her executioner looked like a typical Westerosi knight, but the girl that the queen kept by her side had skin darker than Alayne had ever seen and the other guards were of all colors and wore strange armour accompanied by long spears. When all had been served, Alayne approached the queen again.

"My lord will not be long, your grace. I appreciate the patience you are showing him." The queen nodded absentmindedly, observing her.

"Of course, Lady..."

"Stone. Alayne Stone. Natural daughter of Petyr Baelish" A voice rang out behind her, sending the queens eyes widening. She turned to see Harry entering the room. He came to her and kissed her hand before giving a halting bow to the silver queen. "An interesting welcome, your grace. Beheading our lord within minutes of your arrival."

"Robin Arryn is our lord." Alayne stressed, angry that he would tell the queen of her relation to the man she had just murdered and worried how she would react. The queen seemed to recover from her shock, but was now staring at her intently.

"We all know who controlled the Eyrie, my lady and it isn't the little boy sleeping upstairs." Harry voice was dripping with irritation, making Alayne for the first time wonder how much 'The Heir' knew of her father's plans. Willing herself to push such thoughts aside, she stood and made her way towards the fire, feeling chills run down her spine. The queen followed her, leaving Harry to speak with her guards about where the rest of her army could rest.

"Lord Baelish was your father?" The silver woman spoke tonelessly and Alayne nodded, eyeing her to gauge her reaction, hoping that she didn't have anything to fear from her. "Did you know of his crimes?"

"Crimes?" What was the queen looking for? Alayne knew that he was guilty of stealing her away. Guilty of murder for sure-even regicide. Guilty of plenty that she knew of, and probably quite a bit she didn't. But she wasn't going to tell this queen, that's for sure. "I'm afraid I haven't spent much time with my father until a few years ago, when my mother died. I just know that he has given me a home where otherwise I didn't have one." At least that part was true. Petyr had given her shelter and reunited her with the only family she had left. She could see the sympathy in the queen's eyes and knew she'd have to play this right if she was going to seem innocent in her eyes. She forced tears to well up in her eyes as she looked back to the fire and spoke in a wavering voice. "I don't know where I will go now... If Lord Baelish was as bad as you say... May I...may I ask what it is he was executed for?"

Steel flooded into the queen's gaze and she opened her mouth, clearly about to launch into details, when another terrifying screech of a dragon shook the walls. Alayne and Harry both visibly shrank from the noise, but the queen just looked pleased and turned from the fire. She snapped her fingers towards her group of warriors and they all followed her out to the square again. Alayne followed hurriedly, meeting eyes with an equally confused Harry. Her mouth fell open at the sight before her in the air as two magnificent, huge dragons practically danced in the sky. The queen's black tossed and turned with another, bright green dragon as they both screamed that deathly wail. Alayne watched, horrified, but noticed a bright smile on the queen's face. As the dragons landed roughly on the ground, she moved forward, reaching up to the green's face, stroking it lovingly.

"You're late!" She scolded gently, petting the gleaming scales. Alayne watched in fascination as the beast allowed her touches, seeming to languish under her hands. She was so enthralled by the interaction, when a voice rang out, she was startled. Even more so that she recognized the voice.

"I know, I know. But unlike the queen, the queen's hand must attend to duties before flying off to conquer the kingdoms." His teasing voice rang out as the queen rounded the dragon to greet it's rider. The blood drained from her face as Sansa glimpsed her husband, Lord Tyrion Lannister.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa couldn't help but stare as the man she had not seen in years climbed down from his seat on the dragon. She watched as the silver woman chattered on to the dwarf, and if the smile and the easy way they interacted was anything to go on, they were surely close. Sansa took her time to observe the man she was legally wed to. The years had obviously been hard on him, but not unkind to his features. If anything, he looked better with the scruffy beard and the rugged scars adorning his face. And while his smile was still kind, there was a solemness in his eyes. Though Sansa was sure that some of what was impressing her was the magnificent beast he had been riding just a moment before, she was still transfixed. It was only when Tyrion glanced towards the group on Valemen that she was standing with that she forced her eyes to the ground. She shuffled a little closer to Harry, standing slightly behind him and keeping her gaze downward. She prayed that she looked inconspicuous and that he would not notice her. If Harry was confused by her actions, he did not show it-only allowed her to use him a shield.

She inwardly cursed as the silver queen approached them directly, but was glad to see she kept her attention on the Maester who had just joined them.

"How fares the little lord?" she asked, obviously much calmer now that she had her hand present.

"He has awoken, your grace. He shall greet you in the great hall in a moment. May I suggest we return to the warmth?" He gestured back towards the keep and the queen nodded.

Sansa was startled when Harry suddenly stepped away from her, leaving her exposed. She shrunk further in on herself, trying to remain obscure. She was instantly furious with her betrothed for abandoning her, though he looked purposeful as he strode forward.

"Excuse me!" Harry called out, moving closer to the queen and Tyrion. "Just what are we supposed to do with these?" He growled, irritated. His arm was stretched out, gesturing towards the two fearsome dragons that were still nipping at each other playfully. Their movements had already caused some damage- cartons of grain had been knocked to the ground and burst open. The beasts were now trampling food that would be detrimental should this winter last too long.

Sansa and everyone else from the Vale fell into a hush from Harry's burst of anger. They witnessed the silver woman execute Lord Baelish within minutes of her arrival, and that violence had not been forgotten so quickly. Although his grievance was fully sound, Sansa was still fearful for how the queen would react. Luckily, she looked instantly shame-faced and stepped towards her dragons. With a few foreign words, the beasts leapt into the sky, circling around each other and roaring happily. They flew off together, disappearing behind the rocky hills. The queen turned back and gestured for the dark woman in her company. The girl stepped forward and removed a pouch from her hip, handing it to her queen. She passed it along to Harry and as she dropped it into his hands, it jangled loudly.

"My apologies, My Lord," she murmured quietly. "This should replace your stores." From the size of the pouch, it was clearly teeming with coin and even if they were only silver (Sansa predicted they were gold) it would certainly contain a healthy sum. But Sansa knew from the look on Harry's face, it did little to make up for what was lost. They had both worked together with Baelish on the Eyrie's accounts and while they had been tight, they were not without money. It was suppliers they needed now. Farmers with a healthy crop to buy from and hunters willing to bring their wares into the Vale. That grain was what they needed. Their people could not eat coin.

But Harry just nodded tightly and pocketed the pouch. It would do no good to rail about what was lost, especially when he was testing the waters as is. They did not know this woman at all. She had been relatively courteous after Baelish was gone, but that did not mean that they could trust her. Harry glanced at Sansa for confirmation and she nodded slightly, approvingly. As he led the group back into the keep, she couldn't help but smile. She would never love the boy, but she appreciated the way he respected her. She followed the group, hanging back as far as she could without missing the conversation that was going on between her betrothed and her husband. Had the situation been any less dire for her, it might be amusing. The surveyed the two walking together and didn't think she could see a more different pair.

Harry was every maiden's dream: tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes that were always alight with some jest or dark with lust. He had an easy smile that charmed all he used it on. Yet he was fully aware of his charms. It had actually been a rough time between he and Sansa in the beginning. When Baelish had first brought him to the Eyrie two years ago with interest of a match between them, Harry had clearly thought it would be an easy conquest. He had danced with her that night and had pulled her closer than was appropriate touching her in ways that made her uncomfortable. She could still smell the wine off his breath when he had whispered an appalling suggestion in her ear. Sansa had abruptly ended their dance, much to Harry's surprise and had avoided him for the rest of the visit. She had told her _father_ that any other interactions must be with chaperones. She still didn't know whether it was her refusal had encouraged him all the more or not, but the next time she saw him, he had been a perfect gentleman.

That was until a few nights later when she had been sleeplessly walking the castle in the dead of night and walked in on he and a kitchen maid laid out on the table in the great hall. Sansa had been well taught on the proclivities of men, so she wasn't so frazzled to see her soon-to-be betrothed so intimate with another woman. But when Harry had come to her the next morning and begged her forgiveness, she figured she'd use it to her advantage. They had a true conversation then. Sansa had told him the expectations she had for their marriage, and faithfulness was _not_ one of them. She wanted a true partner, someone who would not dismiss her just because of her sex. She had been the right-hand of the main ruler in the Vale and didn't want to be pushed aside as soon as she was wed. _Take whomever you like to bed, My Lord. It does not matter to me_ she had told the wide-eyed boy. Still, she had been grateful that he had kept any dalliances discreet.

Then there was Tyrion. Lacking all the grace and handsomeness, but teeming with wit and intelligence. He was a man grown, despite his size, and held all the conviction that Harry was missing. He had lived through rejection and loss and pain, but had managed to form himself like a blacksmith would use fire and hammer to craft a sword. Watching him now, after everything she had lived through herself, she was able to appreciate him in a way she never could have in King's Landing. His quick humor had been wasted on her when she was a frightened child, but now she found herself biting her lip to keep from smiling at his japes. She longed to speak with him-tell him how grateful she was for his kindness towards her, even if she had not returned it. Longed to apologize for abandoning him in that viper's nest of a capital...but she knew that would be impossible. She couldn't blow her cover like that. Her father had been Robert Baratheon's best friend-she doubted the Targaryen woman would look kindly on a Stark. And she doubted even Tyrion would want to see her after she had left him to take the blame for Joffrey's murder.

That had been the one thing she had regretted after fleeing the capital with Lord Baelish. Tyrion had been nothing but kind to her and when Petyr revealed his plot to murder the evil king, the only thing she had not liked was who was left to be accused. It was wrong of her, but like everything else in her life-the choice had been made by someone else. She was grateful that he had seemed to survive the ordeal she had left him to face alone. Hells, it looked he had succeeded wildly, becoming a trusted adviser of this conqueror. She watched the queen and her hand. His demeanor put people at ease, unlike the silver queen beside him. She was fiery and passionate and demanding, he was witty and calm and solid. The two of them made a good pair. She had chosen wisely.

As they came upon the great hall, Sansa was pleased to see her little cousin looking much better rested and covered with warm furs. The fire had been stoked ever higher to keep little Robin from getting chilled and he had a cup of heated milk in his hands. She was glad to see his grip was steady on the glass and promised herself the little boy would never drink sweetsleep again.

"Lord Robert Arryn, your grace" Harry introduced their little lord and the queen smiled sweetly before nodding her head respectfully.

"We must thank you for your hospitality, Lord Arryn." she said courteously.

The little boy looked overawed by the silver queen, and his eyes darted around before they zeroed in on Sansa towards the back of the group. He looked to her for guidance and she subtly made a bowing motion, nodding encouragingly to him.

"Welcome to the Eyrie, Your Grace" He mumbled shakily, giving a weak bow. But it was enough for the queen, who continued to smile at the little boy.

"Won't you sit with me, Lord Robert?" she asked kindly and again he looked fearful. Much to Sansa's dismay, he dashed away from the queen, running to Sansa and throwing his arms around her waist.

"Come with me, Alayne?" He pleaded and Sansa met eyes with the queen, who smiled sympathetically and gestured for the two of them to join her by the fire. Terrified, Sansa could only allow little Robin to drag her over the the chairs.

She felt like a deer before a hunter as she moved forward, but was grateful to see Tyrion distracted by the queen's guards and the rest of her company. But even as they sat before the fire and the queen spoke gently to the little lord about bending the knee and providing for her royal army, she was on edge. She would never deprive her cousin of the comfort of her company, but she was fearful of standing out at all, and here she was, singled out in front of them all and sitting with the queen. Harry had pulled the rest of the group, including Tyrion back to the table they had sat at before and from the corner of her eye, Sansa observed the little man pouring a goblet of wine.

 _Please let him still be a drunk like before. Perhaps if he is deep in his cups, he will not recognize me. I've grown so much and with this dark hair...I might make it out of this..._ She thought frantically, sending a prayer to any god that was listening.

About an hour later, after observing how gentle the queen was being with her cousin and without any issue, Sansa had relaxed slightly. While not quite as bad as before, Tyrion did still seem to have a taste for wine. As he laughed loud enough to be heard from the fire, Sansa allowed herself to take a deep breath. As soon as the queen was satisfied, Sansa would take Robin to bed, and then do her best to avoid the royal party until the left. Daenerys, as the queen had introduced herself, was planning on just a short stay in the Vale before they moved north. There was some threat beyond the wall that they were marching towards and she wanted to get there as quickly as possible. If it was a short stay, Sansa could even pretend to be sick and unable to assist them or see them off. That would be her best option. Just get through tonight. Robin would be yawning soon and it would be a good excuse to leave.

For the first time since Tyrion had climbed off that dragon, Sansa felt herself relax. It would all work out. She even allowed herself to pour a glass of wine and drink deeply. So she didn't notice when Daenerys waved over her adviser. Didn't notice when Tyrion left the group and made his way over to them. No, she didn't even notice until she looked up and met his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

When Sansa's clear blue eyes locked with Tyrion's mismatched pair, she felt the air rush from her lungs. Instantly, all semblance of relaxation that she had struggled to obtain was washed away and dread filled her. Her shaky hand lowered her goblet of wine and the other pulled little Robin all the closer. The little boy had found his way into her lap like normal, but Sansa was aware how little protection her offered her, even when he was literally shielding her from Tyrion. Even if he was of sound mind, she doubted the Lord of the Vale would be able to protect her from this vengeful queen. One word from the dwarf and all her hard work to remain cloaked under this alias would crumble. The silver queen would know it was the heir of the north before her- the daughter of Eddard Stark, the man who played an integral part of her families downfall and the only remaining sibling to the fallen King in the North. With Robb Stark dead and gone with no children, and with her two little brothers lost, Sansa could easily claim the title of Queen in the North, a rival to Daenerys' own crown.

Sansa's mind instantly flashed to the moment the valeryian steel had severed Lord Baelish's head from his shoulders and wondered how quick her own execution would be. She squared her shoulders under Tyrion's cryptic gaze, preparing herself for the worst. The dwarf had yet to say a word, but she knew he held no love for her. She had abandoned him to take the punishment for Joffrey's death. He would no doubt now leave her to her own destruction when the silver queen demanded her death. But she would face death with the dignity and grace of the winter queen she would be accused of being.

However, all her grandstanding thoughts and preparation came to naught as a wide smile came over Tyrion's features. His gaze had lowered to the sweet boy in her arms and he bowed shortly.

"I've missed you, Lord Robert!" He said playfully, causing a confused look to cross Sansa and Daenerys' faces. "We go way back, you see" Tyrion explained quickly. "This little lord almost taught me how to fly!" Although the words could have been spoken accusingly, Tyrion's playful tone and genuine smile made it clear there was no grudge. Even if Lord Tyrion was still angry with Lord Robin, it was clear that the little boy barely remembered the interaction all those years ago. "Would you believe it, Lord Robert, it only took me a few more years to learn how on my own." His exaggerated wink had the boy giggling. "In any case, I thank you for introducing me to the subject!" Now even the silver woman was smiling at the interaction.

"I see there's no need to introduce my lord hand then! Clearly you are old friends!" She continued the jest. Tyrion nodded slowly then and his eyes returned to Sansa.

"Though I don't think I've met you, my lady...?" Sansa opened her mouth to reply, but found her throat impossibly dry.

"Stone. Alayne Stone." She croaked unconvincingly, but Tyrion nodded all the same.

"Lady Stone." He confirmed, and Sansa cursed herself for being unable to read him in the slightest. The silver queen leaned towards her hand and whispered something in his ear, giving Sansa a reassuring look. Tyrion's eyebrows raised at the queens whispering and he studied Sansa further. "Littlefinger's child?" he asked and Sansa could only nod stiffly.

Daenerys mistook her hesitation for fear and she reached across, brushing her fingers over Sansa's stiff fist. "You have nothing to fear from us, child" she said soothingly. "We do not choose who we are born to. You didn't even know your father until later in life, but you must trust that he deserved the end he received today. My own father was known for his unjust punishments... but I am not my father. Petyr Baelish may have been guilty of much, but I gave him a swift death dealt by one of my most trusted in my Queen's guard..."

Tyrion was nodded, his eyes never leaving Sansa's face. She squirmed slightly under his scrutiny, but instantly they were all distracted.

"Uncle Petyr is dead?" Robin squeaked loudly and they all stared in shock as the little boy's face screwed up in confusion. The chatter from the table across from them also fell silent at the boy's outburst and Sansa looked across to Harry. They shared an unspoken agreement and Sansa stood abruptly, holding the boy close to her chest. "Alayne! What do they mean? Where is Uncle Petyr?!"

"Hush now, Sweetrobin..." Sansa whispered in his ear, clutching him desperately to her, feeling him start to shake. Harry had taken some warm furs from where Robin had abandoned them in favor for the fire and was rushing towards them in the confusion. The queen and her party looked on as they wrapped the shaking boy in the furs as you would swaddle an infant. Robin had started crying out, screaming for Baelish before his cries devolved into nonsense. When he was finally secure in his wrappings, Harry hoisted him over his shoulder, carrying him swiftly from the hall. As the Maester went to follow, Sansa grabbed his sleeve. "No sweetsleep!" She hissed and the man nodded solemnly, rushing after Harry to care for his charge. Sansa watched them disappear around the corner and sighed. She had hoped one small fit this morning would have saved them from anymore tonight, but she had not realized the little boy was unaware of the morning's activities. She cursed herself for her own oversight. She would have to go to him after he had calmed and explain everything. Vowing to deal with that only when she had to, she turned to face the queen and Tyrion again. The whole group was staring at her when she turned and Daenerys rushed forward.

"My lady..." she looked distraught. "I'm...I'm so sorry. I didn't know he hadn't been told..."

Although it could be dangerous, Sansa couldn't help the annoyance that was bubbling up in her. She all but glared at the woman before her. "He is a child, your grace. A child who has lost the closest thing he had to a father because you say he deserved to die." She was practically snarling at the queen, who actually looked ashamed. Tyrion was approaching behind her and was eyeing Sansa curiously. "Forgive me, but I must attend to my lord. Someone will come to show you to your rooms." She whirled away from the shocked queen and strode away purposefully. It would be a long evening coaxing her little cousin back to health and she was not looking forward to it.

 **A/N: Short chapter! Hopefully updating a little sooner to make up for it.**


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa sighed deeply as she sunk into the chair in her rooms. It had been an arduous time trying to calm her little cousin and she was relieved when he had finally cried himself to sleep. It had been a struggle to get him calm enough to listen to her as she had explained the situation. Had explained that his 'uncle' was gone. He had shaken and cried and screamed that they were lying to him. It had taken hours of soothing words and gentle touches to have him see reason and then he had demanded Alayne's presence until he slept. She had emptied her arsenal of fantastic stories to tell him and when he had finally dozed off, she was exhausted herself.

She knew that it would be much easier if she had given in and administered the sweetsleep that Robin had been begging for, but she was determined to wean him from the drug. He was weak enough as it was and the heavy doses Petyr had given him had done nothing to strengthen the boy. No...if Sansa had any say in the matter, Robin would never take another drought of that horrid liquid. The boy may be a terror, but he was her family-one of the only members she had left. And she really couldn't blame Robin for his behaviour. How was he to know any better with the mother he had? Sansa blamed Lysa for spoiling him and she had struggled with righting her aunt's mistake since her...fall. Robin had gotten much better to handle and so as she poured herself a full glass of wine she tried to shake any annoyance towards her cousin from her. This was traumatic for her as well, and if anyone could sympathize with losing your parents in rapid succession, it was her.

When a knock came from her door, she grunted in exasperation. Couldn't they leave her alone for a moment? Were they just incapable of taking care of the Eyrie on their own? How on earth did they function before Petyr and her came? She stood and angrily threw on a heavy robe, abandoning her wine and stomping towards the door. She threw it open and it took a moment to school her features into serenity when she saw the silver queen on the other side of the door. Gods, she had _almost_ forgotten about this trouble. She dipped a respectful curtsey immediately.

"Your grace"

"Lady Stone...I trust the Lord Robert is resting now?" Sansa nodded tightly and surveyed the queen's face. She saw multiple emotions flickering on her face and for the first time noticed how small she was. The queen was close to a whole head shorter than Sansa herself and daintily built. She looked lost, unsure of herself and Sansa almost snickered. It was easy to seem intimidating on a dragon's back, but once you had to actually interact with your people, it must be difficult. She had surely made a mess in the Vale. Within minutes of her arrival she had executed their de facto leader and then made their true lord burst into tears shortly after. Sansa actually felt pity rise in her chest at the queen's discomfiture.

"Yes, your grace, he is resting well. I must apologize for the oversight. He should have been told before meeting with you..." But Daenerys was shaking her head emphatically.

"No, no it is not your fault...I..." she hesitated slightly and Sansa stepped to the side.

"Would you join me for a glass of wine, your grace? I believe we might have quite a bit to discuss."

Daenerys nodded gratefully and stepped into Sansa's modest chambers. As the queen sat herself before the fireplace, Sansa bent and threw some logs into the cold hearth. Throwing some tinder into place as well, she quickly had a small flame. She blew gently, fostering the tiny flicker until it was a bright blaze. She wiped the ash from her hands and joined the queen, picking up the discarded wine from earlier. She had been looking forward to drinking herself to sleep, but those hopes were firmly dashed. She needed to truly speak to the queen. She had been distracted earlier with the arrival of her _husband_ but when he hadn't recognized her she knew she could escape notice. It was time to discover the queen's motives and work towards Alayne's future.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, neither willing to take the first step in broaching such a subject. Finally Sansa took a deep breath.

"What was my father guilty of? Why was he executed moments after your arrival? What did he do?"

Daenerys' mouth grew into a taught line and she stared into the fire. "You did not know your father until recently, correct?" Sansa nodded. "Petyr Baelish was a bad man, Lady Stone. It may be hard to hear, but I'm more than happy to tell you the truth of the man who was your sire."

Sansa nodded quickly. As Daenerys launched into an extensive list of crimes, some that she knew of and many that she didn't, she felt the blood drain from her face. She listened in stunned silence at the list of manipulations that Petyr had orchestrated over the past decade. Is was when a familiar name fell from the queen's lips that she jerked back to her senses.

"Stark?"

Daenerys nodded. "Eddard Stark, hand of the usurper. Baelish framed Lord Tyrion for the murder of his young son, betrayed Lord Stark in the capital once the usurper fell, was instrumental in convincing the whore queen's bastard son in murdering him, and then conspired with the Lannister's to eliminate the rest of the Stark family."

Sansa's mouth had gone dry. Petyr...he couldn't have...they had spoken so many times about her father's downfall...he had offered her his condolences and had held her on the few occasions she had opened up to him and cried. She knew that he had lied countless times to everyone else, but she had thought they had reached an understanding between them. He had promised to never lie to her. "How..." her voice broke slightly and she cleared her throat. "How do you know this?" she croaked.

"Lord Tyrion with the help of Lord Varys. It seems like there was quite a conspiracy."

"But why would you care of the Starks? They are no friends of yours..." Sansa knew she should be careful talking about her family, but she couldn't help herself.

The queen shrugged, admitting her point before growing serious again. "Tyrion has told me that Lord Stark was one of my only advocates when the usurper was calling for my murder. Back when I was freshly married and terrified of the mad dogs assassins. He said that Stark went so far as to threaten leaving when the usurper would not listen to him. He was also murdered by the bastard when he dared unveil the truth of his parentage. The war that your father started burned through most of the country, claiming thousands and thousands of lives. Please trust that he deserved to die. I couldn't have him manipulating from the sidelines of my reign."

Hearing about her honorable true father had unexpected tears running down Sansa's cheeks, but Daenerys only looked at her sympathetically. "I am truly sorry for your loss-" Sansa had to bit her lip to keep herself from scoffing sarcastically. "-But I meant what I said. You have nothing to fear from me. I am not another mad ruler on the throne. I dealt out my justice quickly and painlessly and I find no reason why any other should suffer. You are safe, Lady Stone."

Overwhelmed and drowning in memories and sorrow, Sansa could only nod. The next few moments passed in a daze as Daenerys excused herself and left her alone. As the door closed behind the silver queen, Sansa felt her knees giving out as she sunk to the ground before the roaring flames. She knelt on the cold ground, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking her body gently, watching the fire and allowing the tears to fall freely. For just an hour she allowed herself to forget all the dangers she faced right now. Allowed herself to forget Robin and Harry and Tyrion and the queen and her uncertain future and just let herself mourn her family and the deception she had fallen for. She had never really asked him of his involvement. Maybe because she didn't truly want to know. She had been happy to live with him and have him teach her how to play the game all the time living with the man who had orchestrated all of her pain.

The thoughts of all the times his hands had lingered on her waist, his eyes had appraised her blossoming body, the familial kisses good night that were not very chaste rushed through her mind and in an instant she was retching before the flames. Her stomach heaved the wine she had been gulping down and her head pounded as her body voided itself. Empty and heartbroken, she crawled to her bed, wrapping her shivering body in the rough woolen blanket. As she laid there, wishing for sleep to claim her, the memory of this morning flashed through her mind. Petyr had met her eyes before the sword had swung and ended his pathetic life. His blood had seeped through the packed earth of the courtyard and had reached her feet. Pulling herself into the fetal position, she skimmed her fingers over the hem of the gown she had been too distraught to remove. She felt the crusty, dried blood on her hem and felt a smile coming over her features. Perhaps this silver queen knew what she was doing after all.


	5. Chapter 5

As the sun streamed in through the small window in her room, Sansa covered her eyes with her hands. The headache that was ripping through her was only exacerbated by the knocking coming from the door that had woken her from her deathlike sleep. As the knocking continued, undeterred, Sansa groaned audibly and rolled from her place, feeling her bones screaming in protest. She shrugged on a warm robe to protect her from the chilly morning air and winced as whoever's hand rapped again on the door.

"I'm coming!" she called irritably as she side stepped the vomit left on the floor from the night before. The memories may have been a little foggy, but the weight of the queen's words had not left her. She pulled the robe tight around her waist and undid the heavy locks and pulled the door open, revealing an amused looking Harry.

"Rough night?" he asked, taking in her disheveled hair and the dark circles under her eyes mixed with the sweaty pallor of the rest of her face.

"Rougher morning" she grumbled earning a snort from the golden boy.

"I've got the queen and her lot breaking their fasts in the great hall. Thought I'd bring you something as well." He revealed a trencher with thick white oatmeal and brown bread. Her stomach rolled at the sight, but her mouth watered hungrily. She could kiss him.

Sansa opened the door further and Harry brought the trencher to the table, setting it down and taking the opposite seat. His nose wrinkled as he caught sight of the mess that she had made the night before and his eyes swiveled to her curiously.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head bringing another chuckle from him. "We should talk..." he started as she tore a bite from the bread and popped it into her mouth, chewing cautiously.

"I agree."

"The queen is asking for men." Sansa raised her head from her meal and shared a hard stare with the man across from her. "And food and supplies."

"Winter is upon us! How much does she think we can spare?"

"She has promised that in return she shall name the Lord of the Vale her Warden of the East. And that we will have the support of her reign." Sansa nodded reluctantly-the patronage of the crown was not something to be taken lightly.

Harry's voice dropped slightly in comfort with his next words. "With Lord Baelish gone, the Vale falls to me-"

"The Vale falls to Lord Robin." Sansa interrupted flatly, though she knew how hollow the statement was. She hadn't missed the omission when he had mentioned the 'Lord of the Vale' and not her cousin by name. She couldn't help the worry that passed through her at the thought that she might have to monitor Harry like she used to do to Petyr. Little Robin Arryn would not last much longer, but Sansa would be damned if she allowed anyone to take another family member from her before their time. But she shook the suspicions from her head. Harry loved Robin and would never harm a hair on his little head. It would only be a matter of time that the heir took control of the Vale in truth.

It was obvious that he thought the same by the withering look he sent her. "The _responsibilities_ of the Vale fall to me. And you." Sansa nodded reluctantly. "What do you think?"

"What exactly is she fighting for, anyway? The northern lords cannot be rising against her for their independence. It is much too close to winter. They should all be holed up in their homes at this point, saving their food and supplies, not fighting a war..." Sansa was shocked that the place she had called home for so long was now such a mystery to her. She had all but accepted long ago that she would never see Winterfell again. Sure, Petyr had promised to help her reclaim her home, but that promise became more and more empty as the years had ticked by. She had thrown herself into the running of the Eyrie. After all, wasn't that what she was always bred to do? Run a keep?

"She's not just going north. She's going beyond the wall." Harry's voice was full of wonderment and Sansa's eyes snapped up from her breakfast.

"Beyond?" he nodded.

"Says that's where the real war is. That there are creatures that have awoken and are threatening all of the seven kingdoms."

She stared in shocked silence for a moment. "White walkers?" she breathed. How many times had she heard of the terrible beasts who had threatened man and the wild alike. How many stories had Old Nan scared the little children with? "They've been gone for centuries!"

"Well they've awoken now." Harry said grimly.

Silence engulfed them again as Sansa's mind whirled at the information. If what Harry said was true, they were all in grave danger. "We will give her what she needs. Anything that she needs that will not put our people in trouble."

After all, the Eyrie was impregnable, but nowhere would be safe from the winds of winter.

 **A/N: A little short and a little late, but enjoy!**


	6. Chapter 6

Although Sansa deemed herself safe from detection, she went out of her way to avoid the Queen's hand as supplies and men were gathered to head north. But just because she kept her distance, did not mean she did not keep watch on him.

He had changed quite a bit during the years they were separated and while he had clearly been through many hardships, there was something about him that had certainly improved. Tyrion had flourished, holding himself taller than she had ever seen in Kings Landing. His smile and wit, which had even back then been infectious, had grown ever brighter now that he was out of the shadow of his cruel family. She watched him speak with ease with everyone from the lowliest foot soldier all the way to the silver queen. He was quickly able to gain the trust of everyone in the Vale, including little Lord Robin and even Harry.

Despite all his fears, Sweetrobin had been enthralled by the dragons. She had been carrying heavy bandages (that would be necessary once the battles in the north began) down to the main gallery when she had caught sight of something that had made her heart stop in the courtyard. It was hard to see through the thin windows on the steps, but she craned her neck to catch the scene below. Her little cousin, the one that still shook in fear when someone so much as raised their voice around him, was mere feet away from the massive jaws of Tyrion's green dragon. The beast was gingerly taking strips of raw meat from Sweetrobin's outstretched hands while the dwarf looked on, a grin painted on his lips. Sansa had stared, utterly transfixed at the sight. She was baffled that her little cousin could be so fearless. To be so close to such a creature must be exhilarating and if she were honest with herself, she was jealous of her little cousin. She was sure if she went to him, Tyrion would not hesitate to introduce her to his magnificent beast, but courting his attention was courting danger. No, it was safer by far for her to keep her distance. Her dark hair and the changes time had inflicted on her face and body would only fool him so long. As long as she steered clear of the little man, she was far safer.

But was she truly? Now that Cersei was no longer a threat to her, what was keeping her in the Vale? What was keeping her from announcing herself and taking Winterfell for herself? The new Targaryen queen did not seem as brutal as her predecessors... certainly not as blood thirsty as the Lannister bastard. Perhaps she could do it...become the Lady of Winterfell and rule the north in a way that would have made her father proud.

Unbidden, a memory flashed through her mind.

 _The first time I saw you, you were just a child. A girl from the North, come to the capital for the first time. Not a child any longer. Why did you help me?_

 _They would have thrown you through the Moon Door if they'd found you guilty._

That's not an answer.

If they'd've executed you, what would they have done with me?

I don't know.

Neither do I.

Better to gamble on the man you know than the strangers you don't...

Sansa took a deep breath and bent to retrieve the dropped linen before resuming her trip to the great hall. She did not know how this queen would react to a rival to her throne. Robb had been King in the North. She was sure there would be some that would proclaim Sansa his heir and say she was their queen. The silver woman did not seem the type to suffer pretender to what she felt was rightfully hers. But the men of the Vale...Harry...she knew they would not hurt her. Maybe not take her home, but she would be safe. She would not have to worry about finding herself following Baelish if she stayed quiet. But with her great champion short a head, would she ever be able to go home? Without Petyr's help, would she stay as Alayne forever? Her steps faltered as she remembered the conclusion of the conversation she had had with Petyr those years ago.

 _You think you know me?  
_  
 _I know what you want._

Do you?

She thought she had. She had been so proud that at last she was no longer a pawn, but a player of her own. Able to navigate the rough waters without being under his control. Had she not saved him from an execution that day? When he had been all but caught for murdering her Aunt Lysa? It had been Sansa's lies that saved his neck, not his own skill. But that small moment of triumph had faded as she had once again fell prey to his scheming. Allowing him to twist her to be what he wanted. But what had he truly wanted from her?

Would she had saved him again, had she had the power before the queen separated his head from his body? Would she have sang her pretty songs to the dragon queen to protect him again? She thought back to the liberties he had allowed himself to her..to the way he would look at her and even at the child, little Sweetrobin with that calculating glint in his eyes...remembered the treachery the queen had revealed to her regarding how Baelish had played a direct hand in her father's demise and knew she would not. She had thought he was protecting her for something to come, some grand plan to claim her birthright. But now that he was not pouring sweet lies into her ears, she could see his poison for what it was. She doubted he would have ever taken her to Winterfell. She doubted truly if he would have even let her marriage to Harry go through, knowing that it would be another man who could claim her.

But what was there to do? Stay here in the Vale, protected and safe yet forever yearning after her home? Or approach the silver queen and reveal herself, praying that she would be received well? What was the right answer? Now that Baelish was gone, she was truly on her own.

She passed through to the gallery when a bright chirruping sounded behind her.

"Alayne! Alayne! " She turned and plastered a smile on her face, however strained, as her little cousin barreled towards her, Tyrion on his heels. "I touched the dragon! I fed him! He ate meat right out of my hands!" The eager little boy thrust his palms out in front of him to emphasize his point, a wide grin stretching his face.

"Did you?" she asked, ruffling his hair. She loved the little boy, despite all his difficulties and she had not seen him so pleased since his mother had fallen. "My brave lord! I would have been so afraid. But you will be sure to never go near him again unless the Lord Hand is present, won't you Sweetrobin?" Her eyes ghosted over the dwarf, eager to get away from his gaze, but also knowing Robin was at the age where he could easily fall into trouble. She would be much more at ease once the beasts were gone from the Eyrie.

"Rhaegal and Drogon are under close watch at all times, My lady" Tyrion's smooth voice assured her. "No one is allowed to get close." She nodded, still making a mental note to be sure Sweetrobin was not left unattended until the royal party departed.

"I'm actually glad we ran into you, Lady Stone. I've been meaning to discuss some preparations before we leave in a few days. Lord Harrold assures me it is you who manage practically everything here. Would you join me for a glass of wine this evening?"

Sansa felt her mouth go dry. It did not seem as if he recognized her, she was sure it was because she went out of her way to steer clear of him. She was afraid if he looked at her truly, or spoke with her for more than a few moments, he would surely recognize the woman who was legally his wife. But she didn't see how she could blatantly decline such an offer without raising suspicions. The silence thickened as she swallowed hard and forced a smile to her lips.

"It would be a pleasure, My lord..." she mumbled weakly, furious her voice was not as steady as she wanted.

"The pleasure is all mine, My Lady." He grinned before turning and sauntering away from her.


	7. Chapter 7

As Sansa brushed the thick black liquid over her reddening roots, she practiced her speeches. She would need to be convincing tonight, more so than ever before. She had met a few of the Lords of the Vale when she had been a child in Winterfell, but the had never paid her much attention then-certainly not enough to recognize her years later once she had grown into a woman. But Tyrion was a completely different story. They had been married, technically, and had shared chambers. She had grown quite a bit since then, but she was skeptical that she could continue to fool him. She must. She was uncertain how Daenerys would react to her if she came forward, but she held no such confusion with the dwarf.

She had left him to die. Had abandoned him to his fate at his cruel sister's hand. She who at best could have been a witness testifying to his innocence, at worst a companion in death, had up and disappeared leaving him all alone. It had been a miracle he had survived. And none of it thanks to Sansa.

She had thought about him often since she had fled. She had been an abused child and he had been the only kind face in King's Landing. Even Petyr, who had been the one to take her from that awful place, had wanted her to pay for her salvation. Tyrion had never taken anything from her, outside of her last name. And even that had only been to save her from a worse fate. Sansa scrunched up her nose, thinking about Tywin's second choice- Ser Lancel. She thanked the Gods that they had spared her from that peacock. The green boy would have been her nightmare. Not only would he have not cared a fig for her, he no doubt would have nightly brought her to Joffrey, allowing the bastard king to use her however he saw fit. Sansa shuddered at the thought. No, Tyrion had saved her; and in return she had abandoned him.

There was not a doubt in her mind that he hated Sansa Stark. If he saw through her disguise and whispered poison into the silver queen's ear, she was good as dead. It was much safer to stay as Alayne Stone.

So she practiced her story over and over again as she washed her freshly darkened hair and dressed in a drab, dark gown-a bastards gown. She pulled her hair into a tight braid and smoothed away any trace of nervousness from her features. She glanced over her reflection one last time before she deemed herself sufficiently different than the weak, powderless, timid girl from King's Landing and made her way towards the Hand's chambers.

 _Easy now_ , she thought as she came upon his door. _He always said you were a horrid liar. Don't let anything show on your face. Remember everything Petyr taught you._

She knocked and was only slightly disarmed when Tyrion answered with a bright smile. "My Lady Stone! Please, please come in. I would bid you welcome, but I am the guest here! These are chambers you yourself allocated for me, isn't that right? I must thank you for giving me rooms on a lower floor. With my legs you see it's quite hard to manage the winding staircases here. It was quite considerate of you..."

Sansa cursed herself, thinking how foolish she had been. She of course had taken his affliction into consideration when setting aside chambers, but a stranger would not have even thought of it. She smoothed her face into a porcelain mask though and gave him a slight, apologetic smile.

"You think too much of me, My Lord. I was afraid such low rooms would offend you, but all the higher, open, and clean ones are being occupied by her grace. I am glad to hear they suit you well, however."

He smiled at her wryly and nodded. "A disguised blessing indeed. Come, I have brought the finest Dornish Red." He poured a few goblets and handed one to her. "Have you ever partaken in such a vintage?"

A bastard from the Finger's would never have had such a luxury. "I have not, My Lord" she took a sip and forced herself to choke slightly. Truthfully it was not such an act-it had been years since she had tasted such a fine, sour red. She shot him a quick, embarrassed smile before taking a deeper sip, allowing the wine to swirl on her tongue.

"Ah, then you have not truly lived, My Lady! When I was in Essos I had to make due with Meerenese swill. When we landed in Sunspear I demanded several casks for this particular vintage and now make sure I carry it wherever I go. Perhaps I should leave one here, for you to enjoy. Though I know personally how hard it can be when it finally runs dry. I would not wish that heartbreak on anyone! Come, now, sit by the fire. Winter has come and there is no reason for us to suffer."

She dutifully stepped forward, hiding a smile from his familiar banter, and took a chair by the roaring flames.

"Tell me, how does a bastard girl from the Finger's find her way to be acting Lady of the Vale?"

Sansa froze. "My Lord?" she sputtered, but he just smiled disarmingly at her.

"Oh don't look so afraid, child. I just want to hear your story! You're clearly the most competent person here-I do not blame them for putting so much trust in you. I just want to know of the journey-it must be fascinating."

Sansa gulped and forced herself to be calm. She began reciting the oft repeated story of her childhood-growing up in the Riverlands with her dear departed mother, writing to Littlefinger, her father, when she had passed and how he had come and rescued her, bringing her to the Vale to act as handmaiden to his new bride.

"When the Lady Lysa passed as well, my heart went out to my Sweetrobin. Such a little boy left motherless just as I was. I became a caretaker of sorts to him. And my father needed a woman's touch to help with the running of the castle. It was natural to step into that role."

"And it is clear you have excelled!" Sansa blushed at his praise and raised her glass to her lips. "What of the Hardying boy? I hear you are betrothed? A lucky man" he winked and Sansa felt her heart speed slightly.

"Harry and I have...an understanding between us. He will make a fine husband. It is I who is lucky." As if a bastard girl would ever have a chance with the Heir of the Vale. It would not take much to see past that lie.

"I see..." Tyrion mused thoughtfully. "Betrothed for a while now...Three years, yes? What is keeping the boy from the sept?" The dwarfs voice was still light and casual, but Sansa's throat caught at the question.

What was keeping them from marrying? Well, the fact that she was still legally Tyrion's wife. Petyr had told her they must wait to hear word of his death before taking Harry's silver blue cloak around her shoulders. Virgin or not, her union would be invalid if her previous husband was still living.

"I...I guess with winter approaching we all had other things to prepare for, My Lord..." she said weakly as Tyrion gazed at her over the rim of his goblet.

"Hmm...well, no matter. I am sorry if I've offended you with my curiousity, My Lady. I promise I did not ask you here just to interrogate you!" He rose from his seat and waddled over to the table, grabbing a heavy book and returning.

"I've been going over your ledgers!" He opened the pages and smoothed his hands over her calculations. "Fine work, this. When I was Master of Coin under my nephew I couldn't make the numbers add up quite this well. Littlefinger always had this talent, but it seems as if he has passed his skill on to you, My Lady. This is your work, is it not?"

She nodded, quietly proud of the praise. She had never been particularly talented at numbers as a child, but under Petyr's tutelage, she had flourised and was proud of what she had accomplished. Tyrion's hand waved over her neatly written figures in awe.

"Quite impressive. Your gift could be quite useful to us in the North. We will need help allocating everything for her grace's armies."

Sansa gaped at him. "I'm no where near qualified for that, My Lord."

"Nonsense! I see the truth written right here! You need not be afraid, you would be nowhere near the battles." He raised a hand as she was about to protest. "Please, just...take some time and consider it. Her grace is in need of a friends she can trust."

"You trust me?" How could he? He barely knew this girl, Alayne and even her name was a lie.

His mismatched gaze, when it flicked to her face, held none of the amusement it had a moment ago. He stared at her and for a moment Sansa sat transfixed, as if he could see right through her facade, before the intensity was gone and he smiled.

"Perhaps."

Sansa hadn't even realized she had stopped breathing before she gasped quietly and rose. "You must forgive me. I will think on what you have said, but I'm afraid I must be going to my chambers now, My Lord" she gave a slight curtsey before turning towards the door, desperate to be out of his presence. Desperate to shed this mask that had grown so tight. She had just reached the door when his smooth voice rang out, smugness laced in his tone.

"Should you? I don't know how things are done here in the Vale, but in King's Landing weren't we expected to share a sleeping chamber? We are man and wife, after all..."


	8. Chapter 8

_"We are man and wife, after all..."_

Ice settled in her stomach as her blood pounded in her ears. Her hand was still frozen in spot on the door, her whole body refusing to move. Had she heard him right? Her mind spun and she felt her tongue grow heavy. Maybe she had imagined it...her worst fears coming to fruition. She turned slowly, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"P-pardon, my lord?" she choked, hoping beyond hope that he had not said what she thought he had. She finally met his gaze and her heart sunk.

How many times had she seen that smug look in King's Landing. How often her husband had used his quick wit to trap unsuspecting victims. He had always been so pleased with himself afterwards and now she saw that same look here-trapping her.

She half turned back to the door, her brain searching for some way to escape this. But no...running would do nothing. She would have to face him. Him and the truth and the future. She pulled from the courage she had built over the years and straightened her back, turning back to him and stepping closer.

"How did you know?" she whispered once she had gotten close enough. She silently lowered herself back into the chair and stared into the fire.

She heard him chuckle slightly and could feel his gaze. "We were married, Sansa. Maybe not for long and maybe not happily, but I know you."

Sansa's eyes shot to meet his. The smugness was still apparent in his expression, but Sansa searched it for something else. Vindictiveness? Like a lion cornering its prey? Littlefinger had taught her how to observe-how to guess someone's motives and she pulled from those lessons now.

 _Assume the worst. What's the worst reason they could possibly have for saying what they say and doing what they do?_

The worst. He would want to punish her, wouldn't he? Punish her for abandoning him to his fate in King's Landing... Or he could believe that she had actually murdered Joffrey. She knew there was no love lost between the bastard king and his dwarf uncle, but perhaps he would still wish to charge her with regicide. Joffrey was his nephew, after all. Had he already told the dragon queen of her lies?

"You knew from the beginning?" she croaked, finding it harder to breath as she imagined what would happen now. "Did you know when you came that I was here?"

Tyrion thought for a moment before he responded. "Well I certainly did not know when I came. Had I known you were hidden away in the Vale I would have come sooner." Sansa held her breath. "But no...I did not recognize you at first. You looked familiar, to be sure. But it took a while for me to recognize you in truth. Hells, you are no longer the meek little girl that I knew. The Sansa who had been my bride would never have dared to chastise the queen like you did Daenerys." He chuckled at the memory and Sansa felt her cheeks grow hot. It had not been a good moment for her. "I had suspected before that, but I thought 'No...prim and proper Sansa would never...'" he laughed again before growing thoughtful. "But then...here tonight I could see that girl again. So formal and yet so quietly fierce. Using her courtesies as an armor. A true wolf of winter. I always knew if you had a chance to grow away from Joffrey and my bitch of sister you would flourish. They thought you a fool...it was them who failed to see your true potential."

Silence fell over them. Tyrion seemed lost in his memories and Sansa sat like a rock, fearing what was to come. She didn't understand this praise. He had to hate her. They had never been close. She had rejected him coldly always keeping him at a distance when they were married and then at the first chance she had abandoned him. Leaving him to die. She observed him silently and again found herself cursing her younger self. For being so naive and for not trusting this person. Years later she had realized how kind he had really been to her. And yet she had been a frightened child-lumping him in with his family who she hated.

Finally he seemed to jolt himself out of his reveries and grinned wickedly at her again. "So Littlefinger, hm? Should have known he would have spirited you away. He was always good at sniffing out prospective assets. He knew your worth even if Cersei didn't..." he chattered for a moment about the Whore Queen's ineptitude. But Sansa barely heard it. Ever since he had first called out to her, her blood had been pounding in her ears. She kept waiting for this calm, amused facade of his to break. For the hammer to fall.

"My lord..Tyrion!" she finally interrupted him, anxiety getting the best of her. "What..." she searched for a way to frame it delicately, but could not. "What are you going to do?" She finally said bluntly.

He stared at her, his features blank. All of Littlefinger's teachings were useless against this empty gaze as he pondered. Sansa's was still, not even able to breath as she waited for judgement.

"What am I going to do?" he repeated back and she gave a trace nod. "Well...nothing, Sansa." he spoke as if he couldn't understand her confusion. As if it was the simplest matter in the world. "Nothing in regards to you. I will travel North with the queen. Help advise her during this Great War. I will work with the Lords and the troops to finish this thing and then I will go back to King's Landing with her grace and serve as her hand. You can stay here, living as Alayne Stone, or perhaps Harding some day, for the rest of your life if you wish. I will not force your hand, Sansa."

She blinked in surprise, but stayed mute. _What?_

"But...like I said before. You would also be welcome to join us. Come North. Serve as Alayne and help lead the forces of the Vale. Provide supplies and financial advice" he pressed a hand to the ledger still by his side. "Whatever your name is, your talents speak for themselves."

Sansa gulped, a little bit of indignation rising in her. How dare he act as if this was not complicated for her. As if it mattered little to have this secret between them.

"Or..." he continued. "Go to Daenerys. Tell her who you are. Come North as the last trueborn Stark. Take your home back. Believe me, one of our stops will be eradicating the traitorous Bolton family. Come and take your rightful place. Claim your birthright. I'm sure the North would rejoice having a Stark warden back in Wintefell."

 _There must always be a Stark in Winterfell._

Sansa beat away the pride and hope that had risen in her chest by his words. "It's not that simple," she snapped. "Even if the queen does not have me executed on the spot, it would not be as easy as you say. What reason would she had to give me the North? And you are a fool if you think it would be easy to rally the North for a woman, no matter my last name. They will not follow me! I was Joffrey's betrothed! Married into the Lannister family! Then disappeared and presumed dead for years! They would not care that I am Eddard Stark's daughter. I have done nothing... _nothing_ to earn their respect. Warden?! I'm not fit to ever show my face back there..." She snorted, before bringing a hand to her face, finding her cheeks wet. Tears were flowing unbidden down her face as she voiced all the fears that had welled up in the years since she had left her home.

 _Warden of the North_...she did not deserve to bear such a title. Not after betraying her father. Not after throwing away her honor on the promise of a life as Joffrey's queen. Not even after living so many years under Petyr's influence. Not after everything that had happened.

Tyrion remained silent as she wept. She was grateful, such a show of emotion was embarrassing. She did not want him to try to console her, but she was also glad he was witness to it. For so long she had been forced to keep her identity a secret. She could not voice any of these fears to anyone. The only one who had known everything was the last person she would ever go to with insecurities or remorse. Despite all that Tyrion was, he had never betrayed her confidences. It was a sad thing that the husband she had never warmed to, the man she had left to die, was the closest thing she had to a friend she could trust right now. Why was he talking to her like this, anyway? Didn't he hate her? Want her dead for leaving him to such a fate? Why was he being so...kind?

When her sobs had finally quieted and her tears dried, he glanced back at her, sympathy in his gaze. "Go and get some rest, Sansa. Think about what I said. Think about your choices. No matter what you choose, I will keep faith. You can have a quiet, peaceful life as a nobody or you can be who you were born to be." He stood and waddled over to her chair. She flinched when his hand came to cup her cheek, but forced herself to meet his gaze. His fingers brushed a leftover tear from her cheek before he gave her a soft smile, reaching down to pat her hand. "I think though, that you'd be surprised by how happy all would be if it was discovered that Sansa Stark was alive and well-ready to take back what is hers."

She looked in his eyes one last time, using every trick Littlefinger had taught her to try to catch any lie or ulterior motive. But she saw no falsehood in his encouraging smile and felt her own lips tugging up just so slightly.

"Good night, My Lord"

"Good night, sweet wife," he winked before pulling the door open. "Lady Stone," he bowed, dismissing her courteously as she passed him and suddenly the intimacy they had found evaporated.

The walk back to her own chambers was cold.

 **A/N: I know I know...wayyyy to long since I posted anything. Hope you enjoyed this update-I'll try to get the next one out quicker.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm the worst. Thank you all for your patience-I sincerely appreciate all the reviews. I will try my best to get out another chapter as soon as possible.**

They were leaving and Sansa was no closer to a decision than she had been a week ago when she had left Tyrion's chambers.

True to his word, Tyrion did not treat her any differently. He referred to her as 'Lady Stone' and treated her with detached respect. But while he certainly did not avoid her, he did not go out of his way to seek her company. They spoke when necessary, but only about business and always around others. And honestly, she found it irritating. She knew she was being unfair-just a week ago she had been doing everything she could to avoid his presence. But now she looked for him in the galleys during meal times and her eyes rested on him longer than was appropriate. She knew she was acting suspiciously, but she couldn't help herself. For so long she had been alone with her secrets. For so long she had been unable to trust anyone. And although her mind was screaming at her to keep her facade as Alayne, her heart longed to be Sansa again. She felt wind-tossed and aimless and Tyrion was like a steady rock in the storm. But while she was drawn to him as the only other mummer in her show, he was unperturbed-going about his business as usual.

Despite Harry's inquisitive looks and Myranda's wagging eyebrows, she hadn't realized how obvious she was being until the silver queen herself noticed her bizarre actions.

She had been spending quite a bit of time with Daenerys in the past week, in a foolish attempt to see her hand. It was fruitless, but she had gotten to know the woman a little better. But even if she was a complete stranger, she would notice the suspicion in the queen's amethyst eyes as she sent her a sideways glance one day as they had poured over some accounts.

"I see Lord Tyrion was not wrong about your abilities...he seems to have grown quite fond of you." While her words were not posed as a question, Sansa knew the queen was expecting an explanation.

Sansa swallowed dryly before giving the queen a shaky answer. "I am glad that the Lord Hand is pleased with my work." The queen did not respond, only looked at her expectantly and Sansa subtly steeled herself and forced a shy smile to her lips. She prattled on for a bit about how lucky she was to be noticed by the royal party and how she was happy to be of use until the suspicion died in Daenerys' eyes. But while her Alayne mask was strong and convincing, Sansa couldn't help but notice how it was chafing at her, now that she had been granted an opportunity to set it aside.

...

...

She stood with the rest of the Valemen not riding North, crippled with fear as they said their farewells to the royal party. Her mind spun and her breath came short, but still her instincts warred each other. Was she making a mistake? Was she about to lose her last chance? Or was she escaping death by staying still? Each of the hard earned lessons that had been beaten into her throughout her childhood flashed behind her eyes.

The queen strode out into the courtyard with her hand at her side. Both wore thick, wool cloaks tied tightly around their body. The queen's long, silver hair was plaited back and although the braids were complicated and overlapping, they did not take after the elegant, complex styles in the south. Yet they weren't quite northern either. The queen exuded a foreign, yet natural aura that set her apart and above from the rest of them. The back of Sansa's mind screamed that this woman was a just, true queen that would lead the seven kingdoms into peace. That Daenerys would not be like Cersei or the Mad King himself. Yet still, she hesitated-frozen with indecision. Starks and Targaeryns and Lannisters had bad blood woven between them for generations. Could she trust this queen, and with her the Lord of Casterly Rock? Tyrion had never hurt her...but...

The silver queen went to her dragon and Tyrion walked to his. Sansa subtly wiped the sweat from her hands, but she couldn't help the rock that had settled in her stomach or the way her lungs were refusing to work. She fidgeted like a child, catching the attention of Harry by her side, who looked at her with concern.

"Alayne?" he whispered, worry laced in his tone.

But her eyes and attention were locked on her husband. Tyrion climbed up onto the gleaming green scales of his fierce mount and she watched as he took one last glance of the Vale. He scanned the crowd as if looking for her and Sansa's breath stopped. They finally met eyes and Sansa's stomach dropped to her feet at the disappointment and regret in his gaze.

 _Oh, you absolute fool..._

It was as if instantly her vision was cleared and her heart squeezed in her chest. This was her moment, her chance to reclaim her past- and she was about to lose it. Before she even knew what was happening, her feet were moving on their own. She vaguely heard Harry call to her from behind and the shouts of the queen's soldiers as they cried for her to halt. She didn't even register the dragons growls at the unfamiliar person's approach or see their teeth as they turned to face her.

The only thing that she was aware of was the pair of mismatched eyes that had locked on her. She saw surprise as well as concern flicker in them as she came closer. Without breaking his gaze, he swung his stunted legs from his perch and slid down to the ground, slowly making his way towards her.

Within moments, they had come together and she had grasped at his outstretched hands.

"Sansa...?" he murmured concerned, his gaze flying across her face.

She only just became aware of the tears that were cascading down her cheeks. But despite them, and despite her fear, she couldn't help but smile.

 **A/N: Now things are moving!**


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